“_There he goes!_” shouted the first baseman.
Ed never even so much as offered at that ball, but you may be sure he didn’t step out of the way! Hanford side-stepped, shot his arm back and then forward and off sailed the ball to second base. It reached there in a cloud of dust, and shortstop, covering base, made a brilliant catch and swung downward. But Steve had one foot hooked into the bag and was smiling sweetly as Mr. York, trotting by, spread his hands wide, palms downward. The Wigwam cheered and capered. Then Steve was up again, patting dust from his grey trousers and edging along the path toward third. Twice shortstop circled behind him to base, but Mr. Williams refused to throw. There was not in his estimation any danger of the runner stealing third with no one out. Besides, he was already in difficulty with the batsman, for his second delivery had been far too high and the score was two balls and no strikes. Ed Thursby suddenly recovered from his fierce desire to hit. He stood idle while Mr. Williams put a fast ball over for a strike and while he tried to do it again and missed it by an inch or two. One-and-two, then, and Mr. Williams showing some discomfort, and the rival coachers making life hideous with their shouts. But the Mount Placid pitcher took plenty of time; cast a look toward Steve, dancing challengingly about on the base path, sent him hurrying back to second with a none too fast throw to the second baseman, got the ball back, fixed it between his fingers, and finally sent it in.
Ed only smiled. There was still another chance and this time the offering must be good. His glance shot across to Steve while the ball was returned. Whatever he did, he reflected, he must not put the ball into the infield where it could be played to third, for he knew perfectly well that Steve meant to steal on the next delivery. And then the ball was coming and he set his body for it. And as it came bedlam was let loose!
“Third! Third! There he goes!” shrieked Mount Placid. For Steve was off with the wind-up, his legs fairly twinkling along the path. Around came Ed’s bat, the ball thumped into Hanford’s glove and, an instant later, flew through the air to third. But once more Steve had stolen cleanly, ending his sprint with a ten-foot fallaway slide! And again The Wigwam jubilated riotously! Ed Thursby, trailing his bat back to the pile, reflected that even if he had been ingloriously struck out the day was not yet lost.